


Writing Excuses 10.5

by Glade



Series: Writing Excuses [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Original work - Freeform, Trans Characters, writing excuses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:05:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14092662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glade/pseuds/Glade
Summary: Main characters are usually boring, with situations and the plot replacing interesteing characters. The initial challenge is to use a single marketplace and plot line, and have three characters. See what happens.Three dead drops. Three characters. One marketplace.





	Writing Excuses 10.5

Alex hurried down the street, parcel tucked tightly under one arm. He’d only had it for a few minutes, but already fear sweat was running down his back. He paused in a doorway, looking back. He couldn’t see anyone following him, but that was almost more terrifying than knowing someone was onto him, had seen him collect the parcel. He squared his shoulders, and breathed, trying to calm down. Upon exiting the doorway, he immediately ran into a girl in a wheelchair.  
“Sorry, sorry,” he said hastily, backing up a step before turning to continue down the street, ignoring the faint mutterings behind him. He patted the parcel to reassure himself that it was still there, then turned down another row in the market as he ran his fingers through his short dark hair, trying to calm down again.  
“Left at the book seller, the again at the third produce guy, the right two rows after the weapon man,” he muttered as he went, trying to keep track of where he was, and where he was going in his mind. “Then right after the spice merchant, and...ooh, coffee!” He paused, glancing over the available coffee beans, before abruptly remembering his task, and continuing on, trying to remember where the stall was so he could return after he had delivered his parcel. “So, right after the spice merchant...” he continued, casting a longing look back at the coffee before it was pushed out of sight by turning the corner after the spice merchant.  
By the time he had reached his final destination, his nerves were frayed and he was nearly snapping at everyone who bumped into him- which was nearly everyone given how crowded the market was. He posted the parcel into the letter box with a sigh of relief, and turned back to the market, already feeling several pounds lighter now the parcel was out of his hands. 

 

Elphinstone strolled down the street, returning the greetings of anyone who called out to her. After months living in the town helping to shore up its defences after the goblin raids, most of the townsfolk knew her and her wolf. Deathsent hadn’t come today, opting to stay asleep in front of the fire, rather than head out into the cold. She hadn’t had the choice, and instinctively her hand dropped to her pocket to check that the small purse was still in there. Trying to disguise the motion, she brushed an imaginary piece of dirt off her skirt and clasped her hands in front of her, trying to look like an average woman off to wander around the market.  
Passing the weapon stand, she paused to admire the intricate detailing on the hilts and hafts, even swinging a few knives to feel their balance. She finally purchased a pair of bracers containing some hidden knives, ordering them to be sent to her room at the inn she was staying at, before continuing to wander around the market, taking a circuitous route to her final destination.  
After finally reaching the letterbox she had been instructed to drop the money into, she paused, glancing around before surreptitiously and swiftly pulling the purse out of her pocket and into the letter box.

 

Seph skirted the edges of the busy market, trying to avoid bumping in to too many people. On the last marketday before the Summer Solstice, it was bound to be packed, and they muttered irritably to themselves as yet another person whacked them with a loaded bag before hastening back into the melee.  
“Thrice curse you Col, for making me do this today!” they muttered, before guiltily looking around. Swearing by the three, while not strictly illegal, as strongly frowned upon in backwater towns like this one. “Not like the city,” they murmured, hesitating on the edge of the roiling mass of people all intent on getting everything they needed. Eventually deciding that the best way would be to just do they, they hesitated a moment more and then pushed into the crowd, going with the general flow around the more popular stalls. Three rows in, Seph had had enough and ducked down into a quiet lane with more space between people. Pausing to catch their breath, they suddenly heard a voice, singing a cheerful song about a sailor coming back from sea to see their lover. They smiled, and continued listening until the voice faded, its owner probably heading back inside one of the surrounding buildings.  
As Seph prepared for another push in the crowd towards the final destination for the package Col had given them, they started humming the song they had heard, without thinking about it. When they realised what they were doing, during another pause in trying to get through the crowds, they scowled and changed the song to another one about a girl who challenged a God (and won), muttering the lyrics quietly to themself as they dodged people, dogs, horses and bags as they worked their way over to the letterbox Col had told them to and dropped the package in. Mission accomplished, they glanced at the market and decided to take an alternative route home.


End file.
